


You know what they call it? Bad luck.

by gross_batpanda



Series: Chicagoland [13]
Category: American Revolution RPF, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, Anal Sex, Birthdays, Choking, Come Eating, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Feelings, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8032882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gross_batpanda/pseuds/gross_batpanda
Summary: "Decay is the natural order of things: trees overtake crumbling buildings, pretty boys lose their looks, and time beats on. George is the only thing that doesn't change,  he set a routine twenty years ago and stuck to it faithfully, unperturbed by fads and trends and whatever recycled bullshit the scene got themselves worked up over." Birthdays, feelings, sex vacations, etc.





	You know what they call it? Bad luck.

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags before reading.

The cusp of eighteen is when they start getting mouthy and demanding. Tallmadge is no exception. His whines are replaced with _faster, slower, no I'm not ready give me more prep, please let me get on top c’mon._ The boy just about tried George’s patience had it not been for the fact that George didn't have to exert himself too much as Ben writhed and bounced on his cock with abandon.

His birthday is next week and George isn't done with him just yet.

 

###

 

Ben hung out with Caleb and Anna in her parents basement after he sat through birthday dinner with his parents. They had given him shirts, socks, a nice new pair of headphones, and said that they were _proud_ of him, and his mother had cried about how _my little boy is all grown up_ and Ben had stared into his steak and potatoes.

Anna had gotten him a few tapes, Caleb got him lotto tickets and a copy of _Playboy_ and a dime bag of weed.

They watched _The Red Shoe Diaries_ while drinking cans of High Life and taking hits off a joint and Ben idly flipped through the magazine. The centerfold stared back at him, immaculately tanned and waxed. Ben held it up for Caleb’s appreciation. “You know this isn't exactly my type, right?”

“Dude, I couldn't find _Playgirl_ anywhere, gaywad.” Caleb playfully punched Ben in the shoulder, and Ben punched back and they tussled until Anna told them to knock it off because they were right in front of the TV.

Ben left early, and set his alarm so he'd be up to take the first Saturday train into the city. George had told him he had a surprise for him.

 

###

 

Typically George would still be asleep this early on a Saturday, but he's made plans. At the moment, he's got Ben pinned against his bay window, his  pale figure on display for everyone on Armitage to admire.

He reaches around and pinches Ben’s nipple, and for once his groans don't piss him off. “Yeah, you like that, you nasty little bitch, don't you?” George strokes Ben in time with the thrust of his hips and it doesn't take too long until Ben paints the window with his release. George follows quickly, fucking a boneless and limp Ben until he shoots a tremendous load into his ass. Ben immediately drops to his knees and licks up his mess while George deals with the condom. Ben smiles when he's done and wraps his arms around George. “That was a very nice surprise.” George pulls his arms off Ben--he's been getting too clingy after a good fucking--and pinches his nipple again. “That wasn't the surprise. Get dressed.”

George explains as they drive to the piercing shop, after he’d warmed Ben up with a few shots of whiskey. A nipple piercing, provocative yet hidden is perfect for Ben.That way, wherever Ben goes, he'll be marked, a bit of George still lingering on his body.  Ben's  hands shake as he fills out the waiver, darting nervous glances around the shop.

“Scared?”

“Just a little nervous”, Ben mumbles under his breath.

“Think of this as a rite of passage”. George leans in and murmurs in Ben’s ear “It's a little something to remember me by.”  Ben practically swooned at that, blushing and grinning.

He bit his lip and grimaced as the needle passed through his nipple, and his sweet expression of pain made up for him holding George’s hand.

 

The barbell piercing looks gorgeous, but it's far too soon to play with it so George settles for laying Ben on his bed and stroking him off. He gets on top, caging Ben beneath him. “How does it feel baby?” “It hurts”, Ben whines, and George strokes his cheek. “I know it hurts, but I know you like a little pain, don't you princess.” George’s hand rests under Ben’s chin and he squeezes gently. Ben’s cock jumps in his hand and George falls into a pattern of squeezing Ben’s throat and releasing, careful not to leave any marks. He looks gorgeous like this; flushed cheeks, his eyes screwed shut, off in his own little world. Ben lifts his thigh to meet George’s cock, straining against his jeans and George grinds against it.

Every time Ben groans or grasps for breath, it goes straight to George’s dick. He gives Ben’s throat one more firm squeeze and growls “come on baby, come for me. You've earned it”. Ben comes, keening loudly as he gasps for breath and soaks George’s hand. Seeing Ben like this, sweating and flushed and thoroughly used has too strong of an effect on George and a familiar sticky warmth floods his jeans. Ben smiles, clearly pleased with the effect he's had on George, and leans up for a kiss. He starts to shiver and fight back tears, and latches onto George, his lanky limbs trapping him onto the bed. _Please hold me_ , he begs, and George stupidly indulges him because it's Ben’s birthday. George’s jeans and boxers are uncomfortably sticky, and he needs to tear them off and clean up, but Ben has fallen asleep and buried his head in George’s chest. He stares at the ceiling, cursing himself for losing control. He hasn't creamed his jeans since he was fifteen and sharing a secondhand twin bed with Lawrence in a cramped tenement in Herman Gardens.

Ben stirs, mumbling something under his breath. “I think m’gonna go to school out west. Oregon.”

“Mmm”, George grunts out. He's got to get out of these clothes and take a hot shower. He smells like cum and Ben’s shampoo and the loft feels too cramped with Ben sprawled out on the bed. Ben’s eyes slide open and looks up at George with fawning adoration that makes his stomach churn. Ben kisses up and down his neck until George yanks him away. “M’really gonna miss you George”, he sighs sleepily, with far too much affection in his voice.

**_Fuck._ **

George bolted upright and pushed Ben off the bed.

 

###

 

The floor was cold. And hard. Ben had been in a cloud of pain, pleasure and exhaustion, and had drifted asleep in George’s arms. There had been snuggles and kisses and then Ben might’ve mumbled something as he slid in and out of consciousness, and then he was on the floor. Something was wrong. Ben had done something wrong. He tried to remember and fill in the blanks without asking George--which would only piss him off further--when his jeans smacked him in the face.

“Get up and get dressed”, George growled as he tossed Ben his clothes. He fumbled with his jeans and his shoes and winced as his tshirt brushed against the fresh piercing. George shoved him out the door without even saying goodbye.

Ben spent the train ride trying to figure out what he did to set him off, replaying the day's events over and over again. He was still thinking about it as he walked over to Caleb’s, and it finally dawned on him.

 _I'm gonna miss you._ That's what he'd done. Ben was stupid. He'd been so incredibly stupid and ungrateful when Washington had done so much for him. He was already at Caleb’s and he rushed past him to the bathroom and retched in the sink. Crying hurt too much, so Ben rinsed his mouth and tried to clean up. Caleb knocked on the door, calling “Dude you okay in there?”. Ben nudged the door open and let Caleb squeeze inside. “Yeah, I'm fine, s’allright” he lied before lifting up his shirt. “Hey, check this out.”

“Holy shit dude, that's fucking awesome.”  


###

 

George drives east, only stopping for gas. He had left Billy in charge of club business, and had called Friedrich, who was more than happy to put him up. _Of course, you’re more than welcome here, my boys will be glad to take care of you._

It's dark by the time he exits the highway, darker still because all the traffic lights on Woodward are broken and blinking intermittently.  Von Steuben’s place sticks out in a sea of decaying brick and boarded up windows. There's an abandoned building on one side and an empty overgrown lot on the other. Friedrich bought the place for cheap after he grew tired of Berlin and was chased out of New York and Philadelphia for messing around with the jailbait children of uptight lawyers.  Now he hosted pretty young runaways looking to escape the monotony of suburban life. George had once asked how he managed to stay under the radar, and Friedrich had chuckled. “Things have changed since your youth, my dear. The police department can't even afford cars. They leave me well enough alone.”

Von Steuben’s boys lounged idly in the living room. He lead George up the stairs to a small guest bedroom. He'd included a few gifts on the nightstand: a bottle of top-shelf vodka, a box of condoms, a tube of KY. George slumped on the bed and took a swig of the vodka, exhausted from the drive and the bullshit he'd fled in Chicago. A boy appeared in the door. He'd be decent-looking if not for the tangled mess of matted dreadlocks on his head. He stared expectantly at the bottle. “Hey, can I get some of that?”

 

###

  


Maybe it's the alcohol or George’s exhaustion from the drive that's keeping his dick stupidly soft.The boy doesn't seem to notice or care as he kisses George, content to rub against his leg all night. It's the stupid hair that's throwing him off, so George sends him to the bathroom and finds a pair of clippers.

They idly chat as George cuts his hair. His name’s Nate,he's sixteen, from Connecticut, learned about Friedrich’s place from the other guys he hopped trains with. Probably some poor little rich kid pretending to slum it; Friedrich had a soft spot for that type. Sooner or later his parents will bribe him back home with some shiny new toy, and he’ll write about his faux bohemian stint in his college essays. George finally cuts off the last dread. He looks much better even when he's pouting in the mirror. It briefly reminds him of Ben, so George focuses on how nice he’ll look with his mouth stretched around his cock, and tells him to go clean himself up.

 

George waits for Nate to get out of the shower, and runs through all his favorite fantasies in a vain attempt to get his dick to cooperate. He flashes back to a hot night in his brother’s Roadrunner, a broad hand grasping the back of his head and a familiar voice groaning _oh shit_ _kiddo you're a fucking natural at this, yeah, right there, fuck this feels so good._ Heat floods the base of George’s spine, and his cock finally, mercifully stiffens up. He has no time for shame or self-reflection because Nate’s leaning in the doorway, damp and glistening. Better. Much better.

 

###

 

George works through the condoms in a few days. Nate takes his cock quite nicely, without whining or crying, and George is all too eager to forget all the bullshit in the world and spend his entire vacation in bed. But driving around and doing a few errands will be a decent change of pace. He drives around, past the demolished remnants of Herman Gardens, past familiar houses and hangouts, now demolished, overtaken by wildlife, or turned into fast food chain restaurants. Decay is the natural order of things: trees overtake crumbling buildings, pretty boys lose their looks, and time beats on. George is the only thing that doesn't change,  he set a routine twenty years ago and stuck to it faithfully, unperturbed by fads and trends and whatever recycled bullshit the scene got themselves worked up over.

He’s almost back at Friedrich’s when he sees the ambulance parked out front, with Von Steuben getting interviewed by a cop. George drives past, and parks around the corner and waits until the ambulance and cruisers drive off.

“Nate had dosed himself with something stronger than acid and had a very bad trip”, Friedrich explains, shaking his head at the carnage. There's broken glass and furniture and puddles of vomit. He offers to put George up in a hotel, but there's no way he's gonna stick around. He packs up and speeds off onto I-94, cursing under his breath. Everyone George touches turns to shit.

 

###

 

Ben needs to apologize, to tell George he knows he did something incredibly stupid. He needs to do whatever it takes to make things right, and he'll do anything George wants, no matter how nasty, dirty or painful. But Billy says George is still traveling, no idea when he'll be back. He wishes Alex was here; he's the only one who’d understand and know how to make it right. But Alex is in New York, and unless Ben can convince him to visit during Spring Break…

His hand shakes as he dials the number Alex gave him, and prays he'll pick up the phone.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a Lou Reed song.


End file.
